Swimming with Bulls

I stood at the edge of the pool, clutching my towel like a lifeline. Everyone else was already in, splashing around like they'd been born in chlorinated water. Meanwhile, I was still recovering from my run-in with the bull that morning.

"Come on, Bull!" Tyler yelled, using the nickname he'd given me last week after I'd refused to back down during debate club. "The water's literally perfect."

I cringed. Bull. Great. Now I was officially the kid who'd stared down an angry Angus on his way to school bus and lived to tell about it. My phone had been blowing up all day with people asking if I'd really punched livestock. (For the record: no. I'd just frozen, and the bull had gotten bored.)

"I'm good," I mumbled, but Maya was already climbing out of the pool, droplets cascading down her arms. She grabbed my wrist, her skin impossibly soft against mine.

"Don't be weird about it," she said, half-pulling me toward the stairs. "Besides, Mrs. Chen brought fruit. You have to try this papaya stuff."

Papaya. Because obviously the solution to my aquatic paralysis was exotic fruit.

Maya deposited a chunk of bright orange flesh into my hand. "Trust me. It's like... if a mango and a sunset had a baby."

I took a bite, expecting something gross, but instead—sweet. Complex. Nothing like the processed crap I usually ate.

"See?" Maya grinned, and something in my chest did this stupid fluttery thing. "Now you're not just Bull the Farm Boy anymore. You're Bull Who Expands His Palate."

I laughed, really laughed, and somewhere between that first bite of papaya and Maya dragging me into the shallow end, I realized I was actually swimming. Not drowning, not freaking out. Just... swimming.

"Told you it wasn't so bad," Tyler shouted from across the pool.

"Whatever," I called back, treading water beside Maya. "I'm still never getting in a pasture with another bull again."

"Deal," Maya said, splashing water in my face. "But you're trying lychee next week."

"Bring it."